Unraveling the Dragonborn
by Ichibiluva
Summary: To most, the Dragonborn was but a figure of legend; the saviour of Skyrim, the Archmage of the College and the Listener of the Dark Brotherhood, always shrouded in myth and conjecture. They never considered that to others, she could be mother, wife or friend. Marcurio reflects on the Dragonborn's growth and his journeys by her side. Oneshot.


A/N: Just something I thought up one day. Contains spoilers for College, Dark Brotherhood, Thieves Guild and Dawnguard questlines. I don't own Skyrim or its characters, unfortunately. Enjoy!

Marcurio remembered the first time he met the Dragonborn, when she entered the Bee and Barb one humid Loredas. Clad in a set of mismatched, battered armour, she glanced around the dimly-lit tavern nervously, skittish as a deer in headlights. As she approached, Sapphire, the sharp tongued thief in the corner snapped viciously:

'I don't have any business with you, so get out of my face.'

The young Breton murmured a hurried apology and withdrew slightly. Marcurio gave her a once-over, taking in the hunting bow on her back, a quiver of crudely-fashioned iron arrows and a rusted dagger at her hip. Calling out to her confidently, he said:

'My skill in battle is unmatched. Fortunately for you, that skill can be bought.'

She turned to face him, chewing on her bottom lip as she contemplated his offer.

'How much do you charge?'

'Five hundred septims,' he replied without hesitation. Her brow furrowed; she clearly thought his price to be too steep. Eager to secure himself a new patron, Marcurio continued,

'Why settle for just stabbing your foes when you can roast them alive in a gout of arcane fire?'

Upon hearing this, she heaved a soft sigh and withdrew her coin purse, carefully counting septims into the palm of her hand. When his payment was securely tucked into his robes, Marcurio stood up and proclaimed, 'with a master of magic at your side, you'll have nothing to fear'.

The woman before him looked somewhat sceptical, as though she was rethinking her decision, but turned away eventually with a quiet 'let's go'.

xxxxxx

The first time they entered a Nordic crypt together, Marcurio could almost sense her anxiety. Crouching low to the ground, and taking slow, deliberate steps, she peered cautiously around every corner before venturing forward. As they passed through a crypt, she visibly tensed, holding a hand to her mouth to stifle a cry of alarm when sarcophagi burst open with a dry rattle, revealing the draugr within. The long-dead Nords advanced upon her, hell-bent on eliminating those who would disrupt their slumber. She pulled her bow hastily from her back and with trembling hands fitted an arrow to the bowstring. Her first few shots missed wildly; a stray arrow buried itself in a draugr's shoulder, but impervious to pain, it continued forward, snarling and brandishing its ancient weapon. Stumbling backwards, she reached for another arrow, only to find her quiver mercilessly empty. Acting quickly, Marcurio rushed forward, incinerating one of their attackers in a magnificent plume of fire. Through her haze of panic and fear, his employer mustered the presence of mind to snatch up the arrows the draugr had dropped and sent them flying through heads and chests and eyes. Once the draugr menace had been dealt with, Marcurio smugly declared:

'Draugr are slow and clumsy. Hardly a challenge for a man like me.'

It failed to reassure his companion, unfortunately, who continued to shake slightly and grip her bow til her knuckles were white. Sighing quietly, he addressed her in a gentler, but no less arrogant tone,

'If these ruins frighten you, take comfort in the knowledge that I am here.' His words seemed to stir something within her, as the corners of her mouth quirked upwards.

'Thanks.'

Later, the pair sat on a grassy hill nearby, with their haul spread out before them. Marcurio appraised the gems and weapons they had salvaged with an approving nod.

'I bet these could fetch a good price,' he said. 'We should sell them in Riften, or one of the major holds.'

She nodded absentmindedly, chewing on a mouthful of bread. After swallowing, she turned to him and cleared her throat awkwardly.

'About earlier…thanks. For reassuring me. I'm Luciana by the way. Luciana Ashwing.'

'Marcurio.'

They finished their meal and resumed their travels along the dirt road to Riften. As they did so, Marcurio ribbed her gently.

'You know, Luci, you really should get a new bow… and perhaps a new set of armour.'

xxxx

Rising unsteadily from the Whiterun forge, where she had been labouring for hours, Luciana twisted her body slightly to show off her newly crafted Elven armour.

'Well?' she asked. 'How does it look?'

'Not bad,' her follower conceded, 'but you look a little like a Thalmor. Maybe it's the ears,' he teased.

She shot him a glare. 'Very funny. Hopefully I'll be able to craft a better set soon.' She ran her hand along her Elven bow. 'With this, I should be able to kill our enemies faster. It's… heavier. But it definitely feels more powerful.'

They hadn't even left the city gates an hour before Luciana got the chance to use her bow. An ominous shadow passed overhead as a dragon swooped down upon them, belching fire and smoke. Luciana felt a rush of adrenaline, terror and anticipation in equal measure as her dragon soul rose to the challenge. Steadying her hand, she waited until the dragon was hovering in mid-air, flame breath flowing harmlessly off Marcurio's ward before letting the arrow fly. Her aim was true and the dragon tumbled to the ground, an arrow protruding from its throat. Luciana didn't even have to approach the corpse before the dragon's skin began to char and melt away, before she felt the rush of power and exhilaration from absorbing the dragon's soul. Her Imperial mage jogged towards her, his mouth slightly agape.

'Did you…just absorb its soul?'

Scratching the back of her head sheepishly, Luciana chuckled, a tinge of pink dusting her cheeks.

'Oh that's right, I'm the Dragonborn. Sorry I forgot to mention it.'

xxxx

Marcurio decided that being the Dragonborn's follower was far more exciting than his spot at the tavern in Riften. Since hiring him, his employer had stumbled upon a young boy performing some dark ritual with human remains, executed the owner of the Riften orphanage in full view of the children and been subsequently kidnapped and recruited into a den of eccentric, bloodthirsty assassins. She had also been approached by a charming, handsome redhead in the marketplace, who made her plant stolen goods on a shopkeeper and inducted her into the infamous Thieves Guild. Since then, he'd accompanied her on all the odd jobs they made her do, some of which were highly amusing. He remembered looking on, laughing until tears of mirth streamed down his cheeks as the petite, short haired girl swung her fist at Bersi Honey-Hand's prized Dwarven urn, and his heart pounding in his chest as they broke into Mjoll the Lioness's house and 'borrowed' her golden pitcher. As they emerged from the Ratway into the watery sunlight, he quipped,

'As the Dragonborn, the so-called saviour of Skyrim…shouldn't you be a bit more…heroic? I suspect few would have suspected the Dragonborn to be little more than a petty thief.'

'Being heroic is overrated,' she answered. 'Besides, it's not as though coin is my only objective'.

Intrigued, Marcurio inquired, 'Is that so? Then what is?'

'Companionship,' she said flippantly, although her tone of voice betrayed her seriousness. Marcurio's eyes narrowed upon hearing this. He had never inquired about her past, but he suspected she had arrived in Skyrim fleeing the rigid hierarchy and constant political intrigue of her homeland. Attempting to lighten the mood, he added,

'Of course, it doesn't hurt to impress Brynjolf as well, does it?'

At the sound of her mentor's name, Luciana immediately flushed. 'What? What are you…it's not like that at all! He's given me a lot of guidance, a damn sight more than Mercer, that's for certain. Even Vex is less abrasive than he is.'

'Sure,' her mage companion muttered. 'Of course you wouldn't find his 'lass this, and lass that' endearing in the slightest.'

Ignoring him, Luciana rifled through her bag, producing a stack of iron ingots. 'I need to trade some items with you,' she told him briskly, signalling that this line of conversation was over.

Marcurio folded his arms indignantly. 'I am an apprentice wizard, not a pack mule!' At the sight of her glare he held up his hands to placate her, 'Oh very well, but make it quick!'

Grumbling, he picked up the ingots and trailed behind her as she walked. It was only when he noticed her confident stride, the way she held her head high and met others' gazes that he realised just how far she'd come.

xxxx

The Eye of Magnus glowed an eerie, otherworldly blue and seemed to pulsate with strange magical energies as Ancano attempted to harness its power. Even when faced down by the Dragonborn and two powerful mages, one a master of Alteration, the high Elf continued to mock them and assert that he was invincible. Repelling Tolfdir's attacks, Ancano unleashed a spell of mass paralysis. Marcurio felt his limbs seize up; the lightning crackling at his fingertips dissipated as he collapsed to the ground, unable to move or call out for help. Gritting her teeth, Luciana focussed the Staff of Magnus on the Eye, ignoring the pain that shot through her body from Ancano's attacks. With the Eye closed, she swiftly drew her bow and planted an arrow under his shoulder. Ancano staggered, but did not relent, instead turning his attention to where Marcurio and Tolfdir lay on the ground, immobile and helpless.

'Hey, skeever-butt!' Marcurio had yet to hear such desperation and viciousness in her voice. 'Keep your eyes over here!' The Thalmor mage turned his head just in time to see her release her bowstring a second time before succumbing to a poisoned arrow. With Ancano dead, she knelt by her follower's side, taking one of his calloused hands in hers.

'Oh no you don't,' she panted. 'I did not pay five hundred septims for you to be killed by some half-septim Thalmor lowlife.' Marcurio grinned weakly in response.

The only other time Luciana showed a vindictive and cruel streak was when the Penitus Oculatus attacked the Sanctuary. Marcurio recalled how she'd run headlong into the smoke and haze, blindly calling out her family's names. She arrived too late to save Arnbjorn, who used the last of his strength to maul his assailant with deadly werewolf claws. She passed by the bodies of Gabriella and Veezara, her face screwed up in pain as she remembered the dark elf was always cordial towards her, and the loyal Argonian, last of the Shadowscales. When she saw Nazir's scimitars flashing, fighting two enemies at once, relief turned to rage as she Shouted flames in the enemies' faces, watching coldly as they writhed and screamed. However, she felt only numbness when she plunged Astrid's own dagger into her chest, granting her a quick and merciful death. She sat silently by the pond afterwards, Shadowmere whinnying softly at the loss of his owner. Unsure of what to say, Marcurio simply sat beside her, gazing into the murky water.

'I'm sorry.' he said eventually. 'But it wasn't your fault'.

'I know.' she answered dolefully. 'I just wish things could have ended differently. I think you'd have liked them. Especially Festus - the two of you are similar in some ways...' her voice trailed off and she closed her eyes briefly, allowing herself a moment of weakness. When she opened them again, he saw new resolve in her moss-coloured orbs. 'I'd like to give them all a proper burial.' she told him. 'it's the least I can do'. Nodding wordlessly, Marcurio rose and followed her into the ruins of the sanctuary. She buried Astrid and Arnbjorn together, with Veezara and Festus nearby, covering their graves with nightshade. Marcurio helped cremate Gabriella's remains, scattering the ashes according to Dunmer tradition. Casting a long sideways look at the sanctuary, Luciana mounted Shadowmere and dug her heels into his side. 'Let's go.' she said, her voice unwavering. Marcurio set off behind them at a jog.

'You lead, I'll follow.'

xxxx

Following the loss of her dysfunctional little family, Luciana decided that the best course of action would be to build a home of her own. Having run several errands for the pompous Jarl of Falkreath, she purchased a plot of land by the lake, not far from where the sanctuary had been. After dealing with the friendly neighbourhood necromancer that resided at the base of the hill, Imperial and Breton began gathering construction materials, running back and forth from the town with leather strips, iron ingots and sawn logs from the mill. From dawn to dusk, they hacked at slabs of stone and clay, collapsing on their bedrolls after a meal of cheese and pheasant. Days turned to weeks and soon enough, a magnificent manor stood atop the cliff overlooking the lake, complete with an animal pen, apiary and garden. Truly, it was a residence fit for the Dragonborn herself. Surveying the fruits of their labour approvingly, Marcurio approached Luciana, who was admiring the rays of sunset dancing across the lake.

'A fine steading like this needs a good steward. I'd be happy to take on that position, if you'd like.' He tried to feign disinterest, hoping she wasn't aware of how his heart was in his mouth, one hand fisted in the side of his robe. She brushed past him, squeezing his arm gently as she did so.

'I'll think about it,' she told him with a half-smile. It wasn't outright rejection, but somehow her response only served to double his anxiety.

'Sorry. Forget I asked.' he muttered. _Stupid_, he berated himself. _Why'd you have to ask her something like that anyway? _

Although he'd never say it aloud, the reason he'd done so was because as her steward, he'd have an excuse to remain by her side.

xxxx

Luciana drew her cloak around her shoulders and shuddered slightly as a cold draft swept through the streets of Windhelm. She hated the Stormcloak city; the ice, the gloomy grey buildings and the plight of the Dunmer and Argonians ensured she always kept her visits as brief as possible. They approached the gates, eager to continue on their journey, but were stopped by a plaintive child's voice.

'Would you like to buy some flowers? Please?' a small Nord girl held out a basket of mountain flowers hopefully. Reaching for her purse, Luciana gently inquired as to the whereabouts of the child's parents.

'They're…they're dead.' she answered sadly. 'My mama died when I was little.. I don't remember her very well. My father was a Stormcloak soldier. One day he left and…didn't come back. I'm all alone.'

Luciana's face didn't betray much emotion, but when she stooped down and patted the little girl on the head, whispering 'I'm sorry to hear that,' Marcurio could tell that she empathised with the pain of losing one's home. As they walked away, the girl, Sofie, called out

'Thanks…for talking to me.'

The Breton archer paused just in front of the gate, then set off at a run back in Sofie's direction. Standing just before her, the Archmage of the College of Winterhold, Listener of the Dark Brotherhood and Agent of Nocturnal proclaimed

'I could adopt you if you want.'

Marcurio smiled as Sofie, now the Dragonborn's daughter, flung her small arms around his companion's neck and ran away practically glowing with happiness. Later, while they sat in the back of a carriage, he mused quietly,

'Who would've thought that assassins and thieves could become doting parents?'

Luciana scoffed in reply, 'Oh come on. You should know by now that there's camaraderie and loyalty, even among people like us. We just don't make a big deal of it, is all. Those who profess to have honour, on the other hand…'

'What do you mean?' he prompted.

'Ulfric Stormcloak, of course.' her eyes grew steely. 'He claims to be the true High King, having defeated his predecessor in honourable combat, when everyone knows his 'challenge' was anything but. He claims to fight Thalmor oppression, while he does nothing to alleviate the rampant discrimination his Dunmer and Argonian citizens face. He won't even provide for the orphan of one of his own.' she shook her head in disgust.

'I suppose you're an Imperial supporter then?' Marcurio inquired.

'I…guess.' she replied hesitantly.

He chuckled. 'Ironic, isn't it, seeing as they tried to kill you.'

She waved her hand dismissively. 'That was just the one time. Besides, do you have a problem with where my allegiance lies?'

'No.' Marcurio shrugged, 'though it would be inconvenient if you asked me to turn my spells against my own countrymen.'

Realising her folly, Luciana bit her tongue hard. 'Sorry.' she mumbled contritely. 'I'd forgotten.'

'Forget it,' he interrupted. 'It's fine.'

The rest of the carriage ride was silent until they reached Dawnstar. There, Luciana took in another orphan, a Redguard boy named Alesan who spent his nights curled up on the cold stone floor of the inn, struggling to stay warm. The next time they returned to Lakeview manor, both adults, along with the housecarl Rayya engaged in a game of tag. While they did so, Marcurio realised with a pang that although Luciana now had a home and family to return to, should she ever dismiss him, he'd have to return to his solitary existence on a tavern bench, sleeping on a borrowed bed and surrounded by unscrupulous opportunists like Maven Black-Briar and visitors like Sapphire who seemed to endlessly come and go.

xxxx

Luciana seldom dismissed her follower, but each and every time she did, Marcurio increasingly feared that she would never return for him. When she did not require his services, Marcurio stayed on the bench where she'd first met him, glancing eagerly towards the door every time it swung open. It was pathetic, he knew, to be so attached to the girl. She was his employer, like all the others that had come before. He tried not to think of how she'd spent her own money to buy malachite and grand soul gems in order to craft him his own set of armour. He tried not to think of how she would linger in Dwemer ruins, even though she hated them, so that he could study the automatons they defeated and marvel at the ingenuity of their lost technology. He tried not to think about how she would stay up late into the night, tirelessly practising her archery and dabbling in the conjuration magic her race naturally excelled at. When he asked her why she would forego sleep, she simply replied,

'I don't want anyone close to me to die again.'

The first time she'd dismissed him had been when she needed to travel with the inner circle of the Companions. Farkas, a gruff bear of a man and his rather more intelligent twin had mentioned something of the tomb of Ysgrammor and Harbingers, and immediately he knew she was going somewhere he couldn't follow.

'I'll come back for you,' she reassured him, though. 'So hold onto my stuff for me.' Marcurio had jokingly reminded her that he was not her pack mule and that he got bored very easily, but spent the next few days fidgeting with her stash of dragon bones and latching onto them as a symbol of her promise that she'd return.

The second time he'd been dismissed was when she had to follow the old Guildmaster, Mercer into Snow Veil Sanctum. With a disdainful sneer on his lips, Mercer had plunged straight into the ruins, with the young archer hot on his heels. While waiting at the Bee and Barb, Marcurio told himself repeatedly that despite her mistakes the first time they'd fought draugr, she was stronger now and would most definitely survive. She reappeared about a week later with new scars from Karliah's arrows and Mercer's blades, babbling about Nightingales and skeleton keys and whatnot. He'd rejoined her then, torn between wanting to chide her for her foolishness in not bringing him along, and electrocuting Mercer into Oblivion for betraying her.

The third time Luciana dismissed him, she had decided to help a young frost mage, Illia in Darklight Tower. When she did so, Marcurio retorted, 'So, you think you can make it on your own then? We'll just see about that.' with his usual condescension, but felt genuinely concerned that the Imperial woman would usurp his place at her side. And why not? Illia was a powerful mage in her own right, she was less snarky and certainly would have carried her burdens without complaint. To his great relief, however, his employer strode through the tavern doors some time later and approached him. Attempting to conceal his genuine surprise and happiness at seeing her again, Marcurio let out one of his usual arrogant laughs.

'I knew you couldn't stay away. Admit it, you were lost without me.'

To this, she only rolled her eyes and told him they were going home for a while to offload some of her loot. They were greeted at the door by Illia, her new steward and they sat on the balcony that night drinking spiced wine and honeycomb. When she had finished eating, Luciana stood up and bade them goodnight, declaring that all the adventuring had tired her out. Alone with his fellow mage, Marcurio attempted to engage her in conversation.

'So, you're another one of the waifs Luci picked up, huh? What's your story?'

Illia was surprisingly open, telling him about how she'd tried to atone for her mother's sins, how the Dragonborn had asked her to be her steward, giving her a new purpose and home to fill the void. Marcurio nodded his head in understanding.

'She does that, doesn't she? You're really lucky; I wanted to be her steward but she turned me down.'

Illia blushed slightly. 'I'm sorry about that. But you know, I'm actually a little envious of you.'

'Why's that?' he inquired.

'You're obviously very important to her.' the younger woman said. 'She told me she wanted to learn how to create armour out of dragon scales so they'd protect you better. After we got home, she spent two days straight in the basement forge honing her smithing. Why, there has to be at least a hundred Dwarven bows stashed around the house.'

Marcurio said nothing, staring into his goblet. He said nothing of the joy blooming in his chest, his happiness at knowing that at least she felt the same protectiveness towards him as he did her.

xxxx

'…and if Alduin's eternal, then eternity's done. For his story is over, and the dragons…are gone..'

The patrons of the Winking Skeever broke into thunderous applause, roaring in agreement and taking swigs of mead and ale. Pantea curtsied gracefully and took a seat beside Viarmo at their table. Sitting in the corner, Luciana and Marcurio clinked their goblets together and took a sip, the firebrand wine pleasantly warm and delicious. It had been over a week since Alduin's defeat, but festivities were still ongoing in many of the major holds. Luciana and Marcurio were greeted warmly almost everywhere they went, but the Dragonborn found all the attention suffocating, and had taken to wearing a hood and travelling at night to avoid her eager admirers. Downing the last of her wine, Luciana inclined her head subtly and the two rose in unison, slipping out of the tavern unnoticed.

'We're going to Whiterun,' she announced once they were outside. 'I have many things I wish to sell.'

'Lead on.'

They reached the city when the sun was high in the sky and people flocked towards the plaza, going about their daily business. Luciana bartered with the blacksmith and the proprietor of the Drunken Huntsman before heading to Jorrvaskr to pay a visit to the Companions. As she sat between Vilkas and Farkas at the dining table, Marcurio realised the twins were leaning in unnaturally close towards her; Vilkas seemed to be more talkative than usual and Farkas nodded eagerly along with everything she said. Aela and Njada converged upon their little gathering, and both women seemed to be acting strangely as well. The usually brisk, no-nonsense Aela was speaking in more feminine, even sultry tones, and the brash, sarcastic Njada kept playing with her hair. That was when he noticed the Amulet of Mara hanging from Luciana's neck, which seemed to have caught everyone's eyes. Marcurio could not repress a sudden stab of jealousy; he was her follower, not these undignified louts who only cared for battle and glory. Thankfully, Luciana was not encouraging any of their advances - she was as politely awkward towards them as she had been before. After they left, Marcurio desperately wanted to ask her about the meaning of the amulet, inquire as to whose attentions she wanted to invite, but could not bring himself to do so. What if she told him she was interested in someone like Brynjolf or Onmund, one of her classmates at the College? She had always expressed great admiration for the former, and had helped the latter recover his family's amulet once. What if she wasn't even interested in men at all and had her sights set on enterprising Ysolda or her kind, but clumsy friend Brelyna? Marcurio felt as though he couldn't handle that kind of rejection.

During the carriage ride to Riften, Marcurio pretended to be engrossed in a Dwemer history tome while studying his Breton employer's face through subtle, stolen glances. She wasn't beautiful in the traditional sense, he decided. Her lips were set in a thin line and her slim, sloping brows often gave the impression that she was frowning or being aloof. She paid little attention to her chestnut coloured hair, wearing it in a short bob so that it would not interfere with her aim. Anything else would be impractical, she told him. Months on end of traversing Skyrim's mountains and icy crevasses had left her skin rugged and beaten, and her body was marred with scars from where blades or arrows had slipped between the chinks in her armour. At the same time, he couldn't help but admire the highness of her cheekbones and her forest coloured eyes, which all too often betrayed the emotions she refused to reveal. More than that, Marcurio appreciated her simplicity and humility; where others may have thrown their lofty titles about and abused their power, Luciana generally shied away from high society and ostentatious displays of wealth. She most enjoyed standing on the balcony overlooking the lake, watching her adoptive children play by day, and observing the glowing light of the torchbugs by night. He remembered how one night she had suddenly Shouted 'FUS RO DAH!' and giggled like a child when several torchbugs fell to the ground and flickered there like small glowing pebbles. She was an odd creature, he realised, preferring the company of adventurers and oddities to Jarls and nobles. Watching the bugs' yellow light illuminate her face as she raced around the yard, trying to catch luna moths, he decided that he wanted nothing more than to stay with her for the rest of his days.

So lost was he in his reverie that Marcurio didn't realise he'd been staring, so when she brought her viridian gaze to meet his, he forgot to avert his eyes.

'Hey,' she called gently. 'Do I have something on my face? You…keep staring at me.'

The Imperial mage closed his eyes briefly, summoning all the courage he could muster before answering, 'Is that an amulet of Mara? I'm sure half of Skyrim would be pleased to hear the Dragonborn is eligible for marriage.'

Luciana fingered the trinket absent mindedly. 'Is that so? I guess it's too bad she's already got someone in mind. If he's interested, that is.'

Marcurio felt his heart leap into his throat. 'I'm sure he would be.'

'Good to know.' Without warning, she scooted closer and leaned towards him, so their faces were mere inches apart. 'Interested in me, are you?'

'Why yes of course,' he felt his heart thundering against his ribcage. 'Why wouldn't I be? Are you…interested in me?'

For one heart-stopping moment, she didn't say anything. Then emerald met hazel as she looked into his eyes and told him,

'Yes. Yes I am.'

The Temple of Mara had never seen so many guests at once. The pews were filled out by the most distinguished guests, but others were happy to stand in the aisles to give their congratulations to the happy couple. Everyone they'd ever helped was there, from Jarl Balgruuf and Idgrod Ravencrone, to Brynjolf, Karliah and even Ondolemar. Members of the Thieves Guild, College and Companions were there, and Nazir and Babette sent them their well-wishes via courier. Everyone was eager to witness the marriage between the Dragonborn, the saviour of Skyrim, and her mage follower, who had become almost as renowned as she. Sofie and Alesan cheered and whooped all throughout the carriage ride home as they welcomed their new adoptive parent. Luciana and Marcurio themselves said little however, though she didn't release his hand til they were standing at their doorstep.

'Welcome home, I guess.' she murmured.

'Yeah.' Marcurio smiled contentedly. 'Home.'

xxxx

Very little changed after Marcurio and Luciana's marriage; the two continued adventuring together, assisting the people of Skyrim wherever they could, be it with odd jobs, or quests that would determine the fate of cities. One day, following a passing remark from a guard, the young couple visited an old fortress to the far east of Riften, intending to join the Dawnguard. Their leader, an imposing Redguard man named Isran, ordered them to investigate reports of vampire activity in Dimhollow Cave. When a beautiful young woman emerged from her coffin, bearing an Elder Scroll and claiming to have predated the Empire, the two of them exchanged ominous glances, knowing that her awakening signalled the encroachment of a new threat. Sure enough, the woman, Serana's father banished them from his castle when they refused his offer of vampirism, and they returned to the fort to find it besieged by vampires. Although they defeated their attackers, a powerful sense of foreboding lead them to return home, only to find Illia and Rayya desperately trying to hold a horde of vampires at bay. Marcurio's lightning crackled through the air, sending vampire thralls flying while Luciana targeted heads, necks and hearts with surgical precision. Emboldened by their arrival, the two women redoubled their efforts, ice storms and scimitars carving a swathe through the enemies. When the last of the vampires lay dead at their feet, Marcurio and Luciana turned around to see their children rush into their arms sobbing incoherently. Luciana noted the fear in their eyes and exchanged a solemn look with her husband. He seemed older than usual, brown eyes filled with a mixture of sadness and resignation, and the Breton hated herself for what she knew they needed to do.

Marcurio stood in the doorway with Sofie and Alesan, watching as his wife's back receded into the distance. Neither of them had wanted to do it, but he knew as well as she did that he was needed at the manor to repel the Volkihar vampires who, along with giants, bandits and wolves attacked in droves and were resistant to Illia's ice-based magic. It killed him to be unable to adventure with her; he gritted his teeth at the thought of her being caught up in an ambush, accosted by dragons or draugr, who only seemed to be growing in power. Yet he accepted his fate stoically, he had known what being the Dragonborn's spouse entailed and had decided that she was worth it, in spite of it all.

Days bled into weeks, but Luciana eventually returned, this time with the vampire Serana in tow. Her housecarl and steward had been alarmed at their first meeting, but Serana's calm demeanour and gentle disposition soon gained their cautious acceptance. The family ate dinner together, after which Serana retired to the spare bed. Lying side by side, Luciana rested her head against his chest and sleepily murmured, 'How has everyone been?'

'Fine, love.' he replied, 'We haven't been attacked too often lately, and Illia and I have started training the children in Destruction and Restoration. Sofie casted her first 'Flames' spell just yesterday, and Alesan healed an injured rabbit not long ago.'

'That's…great.' she sounded relieved. 'What about you? Has it been hard on you, being cooped up here?'

'I've been fine. Staying here has…taken some getting used to, but I'll soon adjust.' Marcurio didn't tell her how he would lie awake at night wondering where she was, how when he watched the children play outside, his eyes would always flit towards the treeline in the hopes of seeing her there. He didn't tell her how missing her hurt like a physical wound, how he wished that someday Skyrim could be at peace, so that he could selfishly have her to himself again. Upon hearing his words, she relaxed a little.

'I've been travelling with Serana lately.' she said, changing the subject. 'We're working with the Dawnguard to make sure her father doesn't block out the sun for good.'

'Her father?' he asked. 'You mean the tremendously friendly fellow who threw us out of his castle?'

'The one and only.'

'Never liked him anyway.' Marcurio said to which Luciana laughed.

'It's good to be back.'

Knowing that his wife was in the company of a powerful spellcaster and vampire assuaged Marcurio's fears the next time she left. She stayed away for days, sometimes weeks, but the two women would always come home with apples and sweetrolls for the children and tales of their adventures to be shared over a mug of Black-Briar mead. Each time she returned, Luciana spoke mostly of Serana, and he knew she had come to care for her greatly. Every time she came over, Serana would be unobtrusive and quiet, sitting patiently at the table and occasionally stirring at the cooking pot. Whenever the children, fascinated by the strange woman with glowing yellow eyes asked her to join in their games, she would always appear astonished, but oblige. Sofie often gushed to him about how pretty and kind she was, and Alesan would excitedly recount the time he saw her reanimate a wolf to chase away some bandit thugs. It was scary to see just how well Serana fitted into his little family, and although Marcurio tried not to resent her for it, he wondered if it showed.

'It's really sad, isn't it?' sighed Luciana, interrupting his thoughts.

'Hmm?'

'At the end of it all, she's going to have to kill her own father. I think she's coming to terms with it, but I don't dare ask. What in the world would I say?'

The dark haired Imperial said nothing, feeling her stir restlessly in his arms. Finally, he asked,

'What will happen to her after Castle Volkihar falls?'

'I…don't know.' Luciana admitted. 'She told me not to worry about it. The way things are looking, though, she'll remain in Fort Dawnguard.'

'The Dawnguard?' Marcurio arched a brow in surprise. 'The vampire hunters? That would be uncomfortable, to say the least.'

'Where else can she stay, though? Her mother's trapped in a different realm and she's now considered a pariah by other vampires. Ironically, the place she'll be safest is in that old fort.'

Marcurio thought of Isran and his burning hatred of all things vampiric. He thought of the Spartan lives the Dawnguard lived, cloistered in a fortress that could never feel like home. He sighed.

'What a shame.'

When Luciana and Serana prepared to leave the next day for the assault on Castle Volkihar, Marcurio addressed the latter directly for the first time.

'Take care of her,' he entreated. 'Bring her back safely.'

'I will.' Serana suddenly seemed to deflate slightly. It was a feeling he knew well, knowing that it would most likely be her last adventure with the Breton.

'It'll be fine.' Marcurio wasn't sure what had possessed him to speak up, but he continued anyway. 'She won't just abandon you after all this. The way I see it, the two of you are friends now, and Luci isn't in the habit of leaving them behind.'

Serana's eyes looked moist, but only for a moment before she smiled uncertainly at him. 'Thank you. Luciana is lucky to have someone like you.' Now that was one thing they could agree on. Looking at the woman before him, Marcurio knew they would both risk life and limb to ensure Luciana's happiness and wellbeing. He farewelled his wife with a tight embrace, as she stroked his hair and whispered,

'Don't wait up for me.'

In spite of this, he, the children, Illia and Rayya were all present to greet her when she returned home late that night stinking of raw meat and splattered with vampire blood. She fell into their arms with a tired, but exhilarated laugh, while over her shoulder he watched Serana smile sadly and turn away saying

'I'll be at Fort Dawnguard if you need me.'

Something stirred within him then. It didn't feel right, condemning her to live with a group who still hated and feared her. Who would not, could not see past her vampirism, despite everything she'd done to stop the prophecy coming to pass. Meeting his eyes, Luciana gave him a smile and an approving nod. Before he could stop himself, he called out to her.

'You could stay.'

Serana turned to see her newfound friend; her only friend now, after all these centuries, and her family, welcoming her with open arms. Unshed tears pooling in her eyes, she walked back towards the house, towards the people who had been given a second chance in life by the Dragonborn. Mercenary, vampire, orphans and a witch's daughter came together to form an unlikely, but loving family and Marcurio smirked as he watched the scene unfold. Luciana removed an exquisite golden bow from her back and placed it on a plaque on the wall before pressing her lips to his.

She was back for good this time.


End file.
